


everyone's favourite son of joseph, reuben.

by Peggo



Category: Cricket RPF
Genre: Get Together, Joe's kid is in his class, Jos is a Teacher, M/M, oh look it's another AU, they fall in love, you know the drill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:41:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26544664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peggo/pseuds/Peggo
Summary: joe's son, alex, starts at a new school.his son's teacher is beautiful.
Relationships: Alastair Cook & Joe Root, Ben Stokes/Mark Wood, Jimmy Anderson/Alastair Cook, Joe Root & Ben Stokes, Jonny Bairstow/Chris Woakes, Jos Buttler & Chris Woakes, Jos Buttler/Joe Root, past Joe Root and Fictional Person
Comments: 20
Kudos: 24





	everyone's favourite son of joseph, reuben.

**Author's Note:**

> this has been an idea in the back half of my brain for so long, i think like maybe Two Weeks (which is a long time for my brain)  
> this is what it came up with, i hope you like it !!
> 
> it follows an english academic year; so starting september, christmas holidays, then back in the new year, another holiday for easter and then summer term, so that explains the format a little bit i hope !! i hope the structure makes sense !!  
> Xx

**september.**

“Have you got everything, Al?” Joe called, glancing down at his watch. He checked himself in the mirror, straightening his tie, trying to make his hair appear presentable while making sure he had everything he needed for the wedding he was photographing later that day. 

His six year old sat on the staircase behind him, tightening the velcro of his new school shoes. He looked up at his dad as he spoke, and then opened his book bag to check that he had his pencil case, homework diary and book. When he saw that everything was in place, he beamed at his dad, giving him a thumbs up and showing him for good measure.

Joe did his own spot check, making sure he had the correct lenses for his camera, had his bag ready and that his dress shoes were polished, regretting saying yes to a wedding gig so far away, despite the decent pay. But he knew he needed the money, if he was going to keep being able to give his son what he wanted to give, and he had the most supportive friends he could ask for, so Alex would always knew how much he was loved. He hoisted Alex up onto his hip, ignoring Alex’s cries that he was far too old and too big for this kind of thing anymore, and buckled him into the booster seat in the back of his car, ready for his first day at a new school.

On the way to school the traffic light went amber, then red, and Joe dutifully halted, taking the time to think back to what had led him to this situation. Bringing his six year old to a new school after the last school had ended in tears, and watching him toy nervously with the straps of his bag in the rearview mirror. Joe knew Alex was thinking back to his previous school and the trouble he’d had there. Joe remembered comforting Alex late at night, and letting him know that there are _different kinds of smart_ , _everyone is good at something, and that no matter what Mr Waters said, Al, you’re kind and good and struggling with maths doesn’t take anything away._ And even on a more basic level, simply _having_ a six year old sat in the back of his car right now had never been part of Joe’s ten year plan, at least not without a partner. 

Him and Alex’s mum, Eirlys, had gone to sixth form together and been on and off through uni, keeping in touch afterwards too. After graduation she had had a fight with her parents, calling him in need of a distraction. Five weeks after that she’d told him she was pregnant, and one week later that she wanted to keep it. They’d talked about it, they’d cried about it, but ultimately Joe had wanted to be involved, and Eirlys had respected that. 

Alex had moved in with him two years ago, when Eirlys passed her pilot’s exam, and been given an offer from British Airways, her dream for as long as Joe had known her. There hadn’t really been a decision to make; Alex would move in with Joe, and Eirlys would visit whenever she was back in the country.

The light turned green and Joe smiled at his son in the rearview mirror as he set the car in motion again, 

“Don’t worry, munchkin, if this one doesn’t work out, we can find another one somewhere else, OK?” 

Alex met his eye in the mirror, a little nervous, before he smiled and nodded, holding up his pinky finger for Joe to reach back and shake. 

•••••

They arrived at the school early, opening the gate and making their way to the doors of the building for nursery to Year 2 kids. There were climbing frames and tarmac to one side of the path, and greenery and trees on the other side up to the main doors.

They were greeted at the door by a friendly looking young lady, who introduced herself as Miss Carter, before telling Joe to ‘please call me Rosie’, and she set off, Joe and Alex trailing dutifully behind her. She led them through various hallways and bright displays, chatting all the way. As they went along she pointed out various rooms (‘that’s where they’ll have assembly, and over there is the cloakroom, where they’ll get ready for PE’), before they arrived at a pastel blue door. The door had ‘2B’ hanging down in horribly clashing orange and pink, and then a small plaque underneath that said _Mr. J.C. Buttler_. Rosie knocked on the door, and they waited until a softly spoken voice called for them to come in, and she opened it, holding it wide as Joe and Alex entered, smiling at them as she shut it gently behind them, smiling at them encouragingly. 

Joe turned to face the teacher, who had stood up from his computer, and made his way across the room, hand outstretched to shake Joe’s, before turning to Alex and smiling. 

“Hi there, Alex, I’m Mr Buttler.” 

Joe watched his son peek out from next to him and smile nervously back at his soon to be teacher. 

“Since you’re the first one here you get to choose your cubby first, anywhere you want, Alex.” Mr Buttler said, and Alex looked back wide-eyed before turning to Joe, seemingly as though he couldn’t believe his ears, 

“Anywhere I want?” he asked timidly, and Mr Buttler nodded, watching him take his coat off and make his way to the cubbies.

Mr Buttler turned to Joe, and Joe was momentarily taken aback by the fact that _holy Mary this man is beautiful_ , before remembering that this was his son’s _teacher_ , was probably straight or married or something and anyway he had had a question to ask. He opened his mouth to speak at the same time that Mr Buttler said, smiling warmly, 

“Please, call me Jos, Mr Buttler just sounds like my dad. Most parents take this time to tell me a list of their child’s allergies and talents that are either already known to the school, or will soon be known by the school, so please say you’re not about to do that.”

Joe glanced quickly at Alex who was carefully inspecting the cubbies, slightly surprised at the laugh that Jos had managed to draw from him, 

“No, none of that,” Joe turned back to give Jos his full attention (and _god his eyes had no right being that blue_ ), “I just was wondering what protocol was for Al’s uncles picking him up from school not me later today, and in the future? But he’s allergic to-”

“Wasps and bees, I know.” Jos’ demeanour seemed to have shifted somewhat, Joe thought, and his smile no longer reached his eyes, and he crossed his arms, “People tend to write a note, or email in, letting us know who to expect, though I must admit this doesn’t normally happen day one.”

Joe winced at the thinly veiled dig. It was true, it wasn’t an ideal situation, but he really needed all the work he could get, and if that meant taking the photos for a wedding two and a half hours away all night, then it meant taking the photos for a wedding two and a half hours away all night. He already couldn’t afford to be sending Alex to this school, Ali was chipping in. After Joe had called him in tears after putting Alex to bed, tired and unsure what to do, after learning that Alex hated it at the local school, being bullied by the other kids, and being sneered at by the teachers because he was struggling with his maths (and Joe had a hunch that Alex had dyscalculia, but he was far too young to be tested, and Joe had been dismissed when he’d mentioned it to the teachers, telling him that all parents looked for an excuse when they learned that they had ‘stupid children’), Ali had immeditaley looked into getting Alex out of that school, and into a school that ‘better suited to him.’ Despite Joe’s half-hearted protests, Ali had found a new school for Alex and managed to get him a spot for the next year, helping to cover school fees, and even buying Alex’s uniform and sports kit. 

Instead of explaining all this, though, since he knew he had to try and get going on the M1 as quickly as possible if he was going to be able to take venue photographs before guests got there, he simply grimaced at Jos, offering an explanatory ‘work’ in response, and hugging Alex, who had returned from the cubbies, tightly, and kissing his forehead. 

Jos showed him to the door, and Joe smiled at him again, wishing him a good day. He was halfway down the corridor before he turned on his heel, and poking his head around the door again, and asking Jos for a quick word.

“One thing you should know, before I leave, and I’m sure you’re already aware of this, but Alf struggles with numbers. If I hear so much as a whisper that anyone, _teachers included_ , are making him feel bad about this, then I won’t hesitate to find another school for him.” Joe smiled at Jos, who seemed a little taken aback, “I’m sure you won’t, I just needed to make sure you knew. Have a lovely day, Mr Buttler, but I’m afraid I really have got to get going now,” and with that Joe hurried from the room, already fishing out his car keys and praying for good traffic. 

•••••

Jos beelined for the coffee machine in the staff room, knowing the machine took about seven minutes to wake up to the world, and they only had about twenty five minutes before he had to go put the worksheets out at places and try to get the SMART board on his side again. He glanced over his shoulder as the door opened and smiled as Chris walked in, similarly making his way over to their battered coffee machine and holding out a mug. 

“How’s your lot, Woaksey?” Jos asked, taking the mug from Chris on autopilot, and placing it next to his with one hand, and passing him the biscuit tin with the other. 

“Yeah not bad, Eoin gave me a heads up about Oscar and Connor, thick as thieves and only six, so I knew not to sit them next to each other, but it’s only a matter of time before they manage to get themselves next to each other.” Jos huffed a small laugh out at that; Eoin had had Oscar and Connor in his Year One class last year, and he’d had his hands full with them (and developed a soft spot for them both, but that wasn’t the point when they were trying to cut each others’ hair in the craft zone). 

The coffee machine finally juddered to a start and had begun dribbling a thin amount of coffee out that they poured into a spare cup, waiting for it to start producing the good stuff (or as good a stuff that instant coffee could provide) and Chris asked the same question to Jos. 

“You have the new kid, don’t you, Jos… Aled, was it? How’s that going?”

“Alex,” Jos corrected, swapping in Chris’ mug when the machine started spewing out proper coffee, “An alright lad, very gentle, quite shy at the moment, but that’s to be expected. We’ve got maths next and his file says he struggles, so we’ll see how that goes. From what I’ve read I reckon it could be dyscalculia, but testing can’t happen till at least year four and by then they’ve often fallen behind the curve already, so we’ll just have to see what we can do.” He handed Chris back his mug, and placed his own under the stream of coffee.

“Did you chat to his dad about the maths thing when he came in?” asked Chris, pouring milk into his mug and giving it a stir, knowing that Jos liked parents to be involved in their child’s education and how they approached various obstacles.

“If he’d hung around long enough, maybe we could have.” Jos muttered, turning the machine off to face Chris, whose eyebrows raised slightly at his tone.

They made their way to the table in the corner that they’d somehow claimed about three years ago, and Jos began to fill Chris in on his encounter with Alex’s dad that morning. Chris made various sympathetic noises as Jos told Chris how Alex’s dad - Joe, was his name - _had_ mentioned his son’s problems with maths, but not in any fine detail, and had almost forgotten to mention it at all, leaving in a rush, as though it was some sort of an afterthought. And _one more thing_ , he told Chris, on a roll by this point, Joe wasn’t even going to pick up his own son from his first day at his new school, 

“Probably some shitty businessman father that’s going to send the Nanny to collect his child and not get to know his child until he’s on his deathbed.” he concluded, setting his mug down a little too firmly on the table. 

Chris took a sip from his own coffee, looking at Jos and raised an eyebrow as he set his own mug much more moderately down in front of him. 

“And to make matters worse, he’s beautiful,” Jos sighed, choosing to ignore the way Chris’s smirk said more than his silence, “But what sort of a parent can’t pick up their own child on their first day of school, Chris. No matter how beautiful someone is, the _first day of school_.” 

Chris checked his watch, now twenty five past eleven, and they swore at how quickly time passed in the staffroom. They made their way back to their classrooms together, chatting about how they might be able to make ‘number and place value’ fun for six year olds, as Jos resigned himself to an uncalibrated board and a lengthy discussion with IT later. 

•••••

Joe undid his shoe laces, exhausted, and kicked off his shoes. Traffic had been a nightmare, and the bride’s mother even worse. The photos had turned out well, and he was pretty proud of them, had been paid well, too, but he was back late, and would have to get Alex ready for school tomorrow, or, well, today. He carefully put his camera on the top shelf of the coat cupboard, out of reach of Alex, and made his way to the kitchen, to grab himself some dinner before heading to bed. 

“We made you dinner, it’s in the fridge.” 

Joe started, turning in the direction of the voice. His best friend Ben was lying on the sofa, Mark asleep next to him, and Ben carefully removed himself from the tangle of limbs that was his boyfriend, and made his way over to give Joe a hug, before sitting down at their table. 

“You’re back later than we expected, Joey.” 

Joe sighed, and ran a hand through his hair, not prepared for a classic ‘you need to look after yourself better Joe, you can’t run yourself into the ground and we’re here for you if you need’ speech that Ben gave him at least once a month. Instead he opened the fridge to find a vegetable pasta bake, and rummaged through the cutlery draw for a fork. 

He joined Ben at the table, not wanting to risk heating up his pasta in case it woke Alex up and apologised, explaining the traffic situation and trying to move the conversation on and asking about Alex’s first day at school. Ben filled him in, talking about how _great_ Mr Buttler seems, not at all like the teachers from before - _but then,_ thinks Joe, _the other teachers had seemed great too_ \- and how he was sitting next to a lovely kid called Annie, whose mum had tried hitting on Mark when they’d gone to pick Alex up. 

He locked the door behind Ben and Mark, grateful for his friends, before he made his way tiredly to brush his teeth, setting his alarm and falling asleep within seconds. 

* * *

**november.**

Jos smiled through gritted teeth as Tristan’s parents finally got up to leave after a particularly painful fifteen minutes where Tristan’s mum tried telling him that he should be pushed up a reading level, even though Tristan definitely was _not_ ready to move up to the pink books from the purple, (and if Jos was being honest, some of the purple were a little ambitious at the moment for Tristan), but there were always going to be those parents that thought their child was exemplary and believed that their child was going to grow up to be the next Einstein or Michelle Obama, and Jos had to be the one to try and remind the parents that even if their child will be the next big thing, they were six or seven _now_ , and they should be allowed to be children while they could. 

As the door shut behind them, Jos slumped down in his chair, checking his schedule. Most parents tried to choose a time slot close to either the end of school or the end of work, and up until now Jos had never known anyone to choose the seven forty five pm slot, the last slot of the day, but there on his timetable was _Joe Root (Alex)_ in Rosie’s neat handwriting. He’d have about an hour to kill before Alex’s dad arrived. He got up to stretch his legs (and go find himself a biscuit from the staff room, because if he was staying in school until eight then the least he deserved was a chocolate hobnob), and waved at Chris through the window in his door, miming a cup of tea and receiving an affirmative small nod of the head. 

Jos looked through the cupboards in the staffroom until he found the teabags and made a mental note to remind Eoin that the tea bags were left in the cupboard _over the kettle_ , not in the mug cupboard, how many times did they have to go over this. Pouring himself and Chris a cuppa each and grabbing a few biscuits he made his way back to his classroom, through the bright corridors that felt almost wrong without the background noise of the kids running through them passing the parents’ that had been in Chris’ room earlier. 

He knocked on the door, using his elbow to press the handle down and poked his head round the door, 

“Room service?” He joked, pushing the door open with his shoulder, careful not to spill their drinks and Chris smiled tiredly at him. 

“You’re a lifesaver, Jos,” he took the tea offered to him, “You nearly done for the day?” 

Jos sat down in the seat opposite Chris, running a hand through his hair and sighing, 

“One left, but at quarter to eight.” Chris grimaced in sympathy, “You?”

Chris smiled, explaining that he had one in fifteen minutes and he’d meant to have one now, but something had cropped up, meaning they’d delayed their meeting until half seven, which wasn’t ideal, but he felt better now, knowing that Jos would suffer for longer, and that they could still carry out their post-mortem at the pub together, and wouldn’t be keeping each other waiting for too long. 

They stayed there chatting until there was a knock at the door and Chris’ next parents had arrived. Jos excused himself, smiling at the couple at the door, before making his way into his own room to get some marking done before Joe arrived. 

•••••

Jos finished the last of the marking from that day, before he looked up to check the time. 1950 blinked back at him from his clock. Joe was five minutes late, and Jos was unimpressed. 

Reaching for his phone to text Chris about _just how unimpressed he was_ , and that all his worst fears about Alex’s dad were true, there was a frantic knock at the door and Joe appeared, wearing a suit that was soaked through, hair a mess and slightly out of breath. He clattered into the room, wild eyed and looking exhausted and stressed and Jos was filled with the impulse to sit him down in front of a fire with a hot chocolate and thick pair of socks, and _where the fuck did that come from, Buttler_ , he thought to himself. 

Instead, he stood up, straightening his own jacket and stretching out a hand for Joe to shake, 

“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to make it” he said, eyebrow raising, bemused as Joe made his way across the room with his shoes squelching, “Did you _run_ here?” 

Joe’s lips quirked up into a tired smile, 

“Just from my friend’s house, where Alex’s staying, he wanted to show Ali how he was getting on with his piano, but didn’t have any music, so I had to drop that off, and then my car broke down and so I ran here while Jim sorts out my car, and you don’t know any of these people and probably just want to go home, so I’ll shut up now, and you can tell me how Alex’s doing, your family’s probably planning to hang, draw and quarter me the longer I keep you.”

He folded his hands into his lap and stared at Jos expectantly, wide eyed and with water dripping from his hair onto his face. 

“No family at home, Joe, no need to worry there. Shall we get going?” 

Jos got out Alex’s folder, and started talking through it with Joe. They chatted through Alex’s love for reading and creative writing, and Jos confessed that Alex’s Taj Mahal painting was the best in the class, though naturally he would never say that to the kids.

“Maths is an area of concern, though Joe,” Jos started, as he turned a folder divider to the maths section. He showed Joe some of the worksheets that Alex had done, 

“Alex seems to have trouble associating number words and their symbols; see here,” He brought out a sheet of word problems that was only half completed, and thoroughly rumpled where a rubber had clearly been taken to it multiple times, “Alex had real problems working out what the questions were asking from him, and he often writes number digits the wrong way around.”

Joe nodded, and Jos was surprised that none of this seemed new to him from their first meeting and his first impression of Joe.

“He also has trouble deciding which numbers are larger, and he’s rubbish with symbols.” Joe added, “And when you get to patterns he’s going to suck and he’s going to hate it. But he’s a smart kid, Mr Buttler, I promise, it’s just there are different kinds of smart. Alex’s isn’t maths, but he’s already very good at the piano and he’s only been going about six months, and like you said his creative writing and reading is great. He’s great at sports, too. It’s only his maths, just give him a chance, please?” 

Jos was quickly re-evaluating everything he’d initially thought about Joe. Joe cared about his son way more than he’d initially given him credit for, a judgement that had lasted through the first term of rarely picking up his son, with a whole host of various ‘uncles’, none of which looked like they could be related to Joe or Alex. To run in the rain for a parents’ meeting looking like he hasn’t sat down all day, and then to be incredibly informed about his son’s strengths and weaknesses, with no hint of judgement was not symptomatic of the absent businessman parent that Jos had, rather unfairly he now realised, categorised Joe as. 

“Have you thought about other after school programs for Alex, Joe?” He asked, “He’s making good friends with Annie, and some of the other kids have approached him, but he seems a little apprehensive. Something like after school activities, and then you might be able to pick him up too?” 

Joe let out a huff of laughter at Jos’ finishing words, and Jos realised that it sounded like an accusation, more than the genuine suggestion he had meant it to be.

“We’ve tried after school stuff before, but to be honest it often leads to him shattered and has a negative impact on his academics. We do maths homework as soon as we’re back, when he’s still the most awake, and trying to do it once Alex’s tired is like trying to brush a crocodile’s teeth.” Joe wrung his hands together, smiling, “He does enjoy Little Cricket at the weekends at the local club, though, and like I mentioned earlier, he’s loving the piano, and I just don’t want to overwhelm him, yet. Maybe once he gets the hang of those things we could look into some after school stuff too.” 

Jos didn’t realise that this parents’ meeting was going to be a karmic exercise in judging books by their covers, but the way that Joe talked about Alex, accepting how he felt and not acting like his feelings were unjustified was quickly proving to him how badly he had read this man the first time they’d met. 

They wrapped up their parents’ meeting at eight, not running over to Jos’ surprise, mainly thanks to how well Joe knew his son, and they made their way to the front of the school, where Chris was waiting for him, as promised. Jos turned to Joe to ask whether he needed a lift back, what with the problems with his car that had caused him to be late in the first place, but Joe smiled, thanking him but pointing to two men and Alex who were stood by a small red car, 

“Thanks for the offer, Jos, but looks like Jim fixed the car. I don’t know what I’d do without those two. Or Ben, or just any of my friends really. I have no clue how to fix a car. It was lovely to chat to you, Jos, thank you for everything you’ve done for Alex, we really appreciate it.” 

* * *

**april.**

Chris and Jos have never been more stressed than for the Year Two Easter production. While the Christmas production was never a walk in the park, parents loved it regardless of quality, so long as there was a Mary and Joseph present, even if there were four wise men, and half of them were girls, and even if the five shepherds brought cows not sheep, there was something endearing about the Nativity that meant that quality could be poured down the drain and no one would bat an eyelid. An Easter Production of a heavily abridged version of Andrew Lloyd-Webber’s _Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat_ was a whole different ball game, and trying to wrangle their Year Twos as well as the Year Ones was always a nightmare. 

After their final dress rehearsal, Chris and Jos were slumped in chairs far too small for them in Chris’ classroom, dreaming about the production being over, and the day they wouldn’t have to hear forty kids ages five to seven dragging out _Any Dream Will Do_. 

Their peaceful complaining was brought to a halt by Eoin in the hallway knocking on Jos’ door. Chris shouted into the corridor that they were in Chris’ room, not Jos’ and he came in looking rather put out. 

“Was anyone going to tell me that Harry _retired_ , leaving us _without a cameraman_ for our shitty little production of Joseph and his fucking fancyass coat, or was I just going to have to pull out my iPhone on the night and hope the parents don’t fucking notice.” 

Jos and Chris watched their friend in bemusement at his outburst, before the words sunk in, and they both sat up straighter, or as straight as one can in a chair meant for six year olds, staring back at Eoin, who had sat on the floor, with the air of someone with no dignity left to lose. 

“Could we ask Rosie for an emergency call out, see if any of the parents have anything to do with cameras, or something? She’s going to hate us for it, and we’ll owe her an even bigger end of year present than we got her last year, but she could put some phone calls out?” Jos suggested, as he tapped his chin with his index finger, a habit he’d never been able to shake when trying to fix a problem. Eoin nodded, reluctant to add to Rosie’s workload, especially towards the end of term, but also realising that it might be their only solution. When Jos turned to Chris, he was disgruntled to find Chris simply tapping on his phone. He cleared his throat, and Chris held a hand up, carrying on tapping at his phone screen for a couple more seconds before, he lowered his hand and looked back at his two friends and colleagues. 

“I texted Jonny, who knows a guy who’s best mate is a photographer. Jonny’s texted the guy who said he’d text his best mate for us to see if we can rent his cameras, and Jonny can come up and set them up and that solves it, right? It’ll be cheaper than finding a proper photographer, and we can just pop them up and save the money for a video editor.” 

“Leave Jonny and marry me, Chris,” Eoin says, slumping down from where he was sat on the floor so he was lying down instead, starfished out on Chris’ carpet and staring at the ceiling.

“Do front of house for me though on opening night and put up with all the parents telling you that their child should have been Joseph and I’ll consider it.” 

“I retract my proposal goddamn it.” 

•••••

“You really didn’t all have to come, you know that don’t you,” Joe told his friends as they all met up in the carpark, tugging at his collar as other parents gave the group funny looks and ducking slightly behind Ben, who had crossed his arms across his chest as one particularly glammed up wife stage whispered to her husband that she ‘ _didn’t realise they were letting any Tom, Dick or Harry in to watch the school production_ ’ accompanied by a disdainful tut. Ben, Mark, Ali, and Jimmy (though Jimmy had put up a good show of being reluctant to watching a cohort of young children sing Andrew Lloyd Webber, more to protect his reputation than out of any genuine reluctance to go support Alex) had all insisted in buying their own tickets and joining Joe for Alex’s Easter production. Ben had created a group chat and joked about getting t-shirts with Alex’s face on them, much to Joe’s stress, but hadn’t followed through with it (mainly because shipping would take about two to four weeks, and they might not arrive in time), but Ben had known that Joe never quite felt comfortable as a single dad of Alex going to these events where he’d be surrounded by other parents that he always thought were more put together than him. It was only worse now that Alex was at a more prestigious school, where parents were quicker to judge, or at least, Joe would feel would be quicker to judge, and Eirlys wasn’t able to make it back for the production since she was halfway to Canada, but they’d promised to buy her a DVD and rewatch it together when she was back.

“And miss Alex as everyone’s favourite son of Joseph… who was it again?” There was a pause and then Mark clapped his hands together, “Ah yes. _Reuben_ ’ Mark joked and Ali rolled his eyes. 

“I think you’ll find Reuben was nobody’s favourite son of Joseph, Mark. Joseph, however, was _Jacob’s_ favourite son, hence the amazing technicolour dreamcoat.” Ali interjected, sliding his hand into Jimmy’s and starting to herd them towards the entrance, “Come on, lads, we want good seats, don’t we.” 

They handed their tickets over to a year one teacher, who introduced himself as Jason, and whose name tag labelled him as ‘Mr Roy’, and he directed them to their seats, handing them their programmes and cheerily telling them to ‘enjoy the show, don’t worry it’s only an hour’. The house lights were still up as they sat in their seats, observing the other parents in the theatre who all had varying levels of enthusiasm on their faces. Joe fiddled with his hands as he looked around the school theatre, with its rows of red chairs and a set that had been well put together, and Joe was once again struck by how lucky his son was to be able to even see the inside of the school, let alone go there, and he turned to thank Ali once again. Turning to face Ali, who was sat with Jimmy closer to the stairs, he saw one of the other teachers, who he had seen waiting for Jos after their parents’ meeting, trying to adjust the focus of the camera on the tripod that he’d set up incorrectly. He mentioned it to Ali, who relayed the information to Jimmy in the aisle seat, who, in true Jimmy fashion, turned to the teacher and said, 

“D’you need a hand, mate, we have a photographer with us, he says your tripod’s up wrong, and he might be able to sort out that focus thing for you, too, very talented is our Joe.” 

The teacher halted from where he was in a half squat and fiddling with the side of the camera, 

“Could you? Really? I’ve just got a message that the kid playing one of Jacob’s wives has lost her pumps and quite frankly I didn’t think she was good enough to play one of Jacob’s wives in the first place, she wouldn’t have made the cast if we could leave kids out, but there we go, you didn’t hear that from me. If I could leave this with you, then, and I’ll be back as soon as possible.” And with that he thrust the camera at Jimmy, and rushed off down a side door to the side of the stage, talking into some sort of walkie-talkie device and running a hand through his hair. 

Joe slipped out from his seat, and Ali and Jimmy moved down one to let Joe have easier access to the cameras as he fixed the tripod and started to sort out the camera settings. Fixing the camera onto the tripod, Joe remained standing behind the camera even as the house lights dimmed and the teacher never came back, tweaking the settings before sitting on the edge of the aisle seat and watching through the lens for a while before he returned his full attention to the stage and the kids on it. 

The show ended, house lights coming back up, and Joe made to end the recording and turn the camera off before parents started to pile out of the theatre. Another teacher appeared that Ali recognised from various pick up times, and who he knew was Alex’s teacher, who seemed to have been sent to look after the cameras. 

“Oh, Chris said one of the parents seemed to know what they were doing with the cameras, thank you Joe, we really appreciate it. Our cameraman actually retired and we weren’t told until the very last minute so Chris’ boyfriend asked a friend who knew someone or something and we managed to get our hands on some cameras but really we’re flying blind, so thank you so much.” 

“Wait, is Chris’ boyfriend a bloke called Jonny?” called Ben, leaning over Ali and butting into their conversation with all the tact of a baby elephant first learning how to walk, taking both Joe and Alex’s teacher by surprise. Ben remained draped over Ali and propped up on his elbows on Jimmy’s thighs as Alex’s teacher turned to their group with a flicker of recognition. Taking Joe’s vacated seat he sat down with them, leaving Joe to carefully put the cap back on the lens and dismantle the tripod, Jos told them that Chris’ boyfriend _was_ indeed called Jonny, and what a small world if it was the same, ‘ginger haired, quite buff with a magnificent beard’ Jonny that they knew. 

“Yeah, that’d be him,” Mark said, also tuning into the conversation, “Which means that’s Joey’s camera, he leant you one to lend to Jonny to lend to Jonny’s boyfriend remember, Ben?” 

The three of them hit it off right away, chatting easily, as Jimmy and Ali excused themselves to go and collect Alex. When Jimmy and Ali returned with Alex, Ben and Mark were still chatting enthusiastically to Alex’s teacher, the teacher from before had joined them and Joe was pulling the final straps shut on the tripod case. 

Alex ran up to Joe, throwing himself at his dad, who managed to turn and scoop him up without tumbling over himself, and Ali watched with a soft smile as Joe praised his son for his ‘ _wonderful performance, the Oliviers called but I told them it was past your bedtime I’m afraid, munchkin’_ , showering him in compliments and causing Alex to giggle with a scrunched up nose that reminded Ali so much of Joe. 

Ali was drawn back into the conversation by something Mark said and he drew his attention away from Joe, as the lads got up, ready to go back home and ‘celebrate opening night’ with some well earned hot chocolate. 

•••••

Jos watched the gaggle of men leave the theatre, Alex nestled in Joe’s arms, Ben with one of Mark’s hands clasped in his right hand, the other arm slung around Joe’s shoulders, a smile dancing on his face as he watched them go. 

It had been a successful first night as these things go, he thought. The kid playing Joseph had only forgotten two of his lines, they’d only lost six props, broken two and no one had been sick. The theatre doors opened and closed as Jason and Eoin came in, having signed out the last of the kids and they simply sat in the auditorium, congratulating themselves on a successful first night, Jason and Eoin filling Jos and Chris in on what parents had been saying on their way out. 

The conversation moved on to camerawork, and it reminded Jos that Jonny knew Joe and his lot, and surely they must have mentioned something about each other in passing. When he said as much to Chris, Jason raised an eyebrow and shot Jos a glance, looking between the two Year Two teachers,

“I thought you said he was a stand-offish dick who didn’t make time for his kid and probably a businessman. What’s got you all interested in him, you hate dads like that”

Jos resigned himself to the ribbing he was about to get as Chris explained how Joe had run to parents’ meeting, shirt soaked through, abs on show- which Jos objected to since he hadn’t had the chance to see if he’s abs were on show or not and it would have been unprofessional but he looked like the kind of guy to keep fit, even if he wasn’t the most ripped, though of course Jos hadn’t thought about this kind of thing - and it had turned out that Jos was just awful at gauging character from first impressions, and in fact Joe cared massively for his son, and it didn’t hurt that Joe was easy on the eyes. 

“Come on lads, we need to reset the stage for tomorrow’s performance, let’s get going,” said Jos, slapping his knees, standing up from his seat and looking at the empty auditorium with programmes left on seats and the dusty stage. And if cleaning up the theatre would distract his friends from asking about Joe then what a happy coincidence because he wasn’t sure how he himself felt about Alex’s dad yet. 

God the Easter holidays couldn’t come quickly enough. 

* * *

**may.**

Jos loved Rosie with his whole heart, without her the school would surely have ground to a halt and England would have fallen, but her coming to visit him in his lunch break was never a good sign. It usually meant that something had gone wrong and needed fixing before the kids made it back into the classrooms after break. 

The panic must have shown on his face when she came into his room because she laughed, and was quick to reassure him that nothing catastrophic had happened. 

“I just got a call from Alex Root’s dad, actually,” she said, perching on the edge of his desk, “No one can come pick Alex up, the earliest anyone can come pick him up would be about an hour and a half after pick up, so I said we could pop him into an afterschool activity for the first hour, and then if they could just hurry as quickly as possible.” She paused, and pushed her glasses up her nose, “The problem comes in because Ellie would be our overtime today, but it’s her anniversary and I know for a fact her husband has got reservations for some bougie restaurant out of town, and _you_ come in because you’re a lovely member of staff who loves your kids and would you be willing-”

“Put me down, it’s fine Rosie, thanks,” Jos interrupted, smiling at Rosie, and feeling relieved that this was it; he could get his marking done in the first hour and watch Alex for the last half hour, maybe help him with his maths homework from that day ( _maybe see Joe again_ , though he pushed that thought down firmly and quickly.) They chatted for the rest of lunch, Rosie slipping out as his kids came in ready for their spelling test, and Chris waved through his window as he went in to teach his own class. 

•••••

Jos wrote himself a post-it, reminding himself to get some more stickers when he next went shopping, and leaned back in his chair. He checked the time; Alex would be in in about ten minutes, so he had time to grab himself a cuppa first and finish his biscuit before Alex arrived, simultaneously fulfilling his craving for a biscuit and avoiding having to give Alex a biscuit and potentially prompting a sugar crash. 

In the staff room he grabbed his mug, flicked the kettle on and dropped a tea bag into the mug. He checked his watch as the kettle came to boil. Five minutes left till he had to be back in his classroom. 

Alex was waiting for him by his classroom door when he got back, chatting with Chris, who had finished supervising whatever after school activity he’d been landed with this term. They were both sat on the floor, backs against opposite walls and Chris was listening intently to whatever it was that Alex was talking about. Jos drew closer and learned that Alex was explaining to Chris that Jonny had promised to bring some stumps to their picnic on Saturday, something Chris probably already knew but was acting as though it was news to him, and how his dad had agreed to let Alex bring his bat that he used at Little Cricket. 

They broke off when they spotted Jos and Chris winked at him as he stood up and brushed his trousers down. 

“What about you, Mr B?” he asked, as Jos watched Alex haul himself to his feet too, before he was subjected to a pair of earnest blue eyes when Alex had managed to stand up straight, “What’s your favourite picnic activity? I went for frisbee, but Alex here raised the bar with some cricket.”

Jos shifted from foot to foot and rubbed the back of his neck, 

“I guess maybe some football with my siblings? We never really went for picnics growing up.” he confessed. Chris looked at him in shock, and began a spluttered ‘wha-’ but was cut off by Alex, 

“Football is good,” he piped up, smiling at Jos with all the approval that a six year old was capable of and displaying the gap in his teeth, a new addition from when his front tooth had fallen out the previous day in Period 3, when Jos had been doing a _wondrous_ Buzz Aldrin impression, if he did say so himself, which had been somewhat overshadowed by Annie shouting _Mr Buttler, Alex’s tooth has fallen out, Mr Buttler look!_

That should have been the end of that. Chris left them to it and Jos and Alex spent twenty minutes going through the maths homework from that day. They’d finished the penultimate question and were about to start the final question when there was a hesitant knock on the door and Joe entered the room. 

Alex, who had been starting to droop slightly, and Jos understood what Joe had meant way back in that parents’ meeting when he’d talked about Alex finding after school activities tiring; although he’d had a wonderful time, according to Jason anyway, he was now rubbing his eyes and struggling through the maths, perked up when he saw his dad come into the room. In turn, Joe’s face had seemed to relax slightly when he saw his son and he made his way over to ruffle Alex’s hair and look over his shoulder at the maths homework. 

Jos watched as Joe crouched down next to Alex, praising him for doing his maths so neatly, and how far he’d got through. Alex had leant on Joe’s shoulder and Joe was running a hand through Alex’s hair absentmindedly, as he used the other hand to pack away Alex’s stuff. 

Joe turned to Jos and smiled at him, a genuine smile that teachers rarely got, much more used to the tight lipped or phoney smile. 

“We ready to go?” Joe asked his son, and he hoisted him up so that Alex’s head was resting on his shoulder only _after_ his son nodded, Jos noticed, something Joe always did whenever his son was concerned, he always made sure that Alex was making decisions that concerned him. From his position in Joe’s arms, Alex said something that Jos couldn’t quite make out but Joe turned to him, slightly shocked and with a soft smile on his lips. 

“Mr Buttler didn’t quite hear you, munchkin,” he told his son, “Remember what we said about looking at someone when we speak to them?” 

Alex raised his head and turned to Jos, 

“Would you like to come to the picnic with us, Mr Buttler?” 

Jos was taken aback, and frankly quite touched. But he was also hesitant; there must be some sort of protocol on teachers going to their students’ picnics, especially when their dads were good looking, but how could he say no to two pairs of identical blue eyes both looking at him, one with a pleading expression and the other expectant.

“Of course, you don’t have to come if it’ll be weird, or if you have plans.” Joe began but Alex frowned as he said that, jutting his bottom lip,

“Mr Woakes, Mr Morgan and Mr Roy are all going, though, Da. Please Mr Buttler, if you want to we’d like you to picnic with us. We’ll play cricket, you can bring a bat and everything.” Alex paused, face scrunched up in thought, “If you don’t have one you can borrow one of mine.”

“Yeah, OK.” He said, “I’ll come, and I’ll bring my bat.”

Alex perked up, “You have one?” he asked incredulously and with wide eyes.

“You bet,” Jos said, smiling at Alex.

Joe watched the interaction, not taking control like a lot of parents would, but letting Alex navigate the conversation how he wanted to, and there was something on his face that Jos couldn’t quite place, almost evaluating whether he was friend or foe.

“See you there, then?” is all Joe asked, stooping to pick up Alex’s book bag. 

“Definitely.”

•••••

“Ask him out at the picnic,” Chris said as he placed a cup of coffee on his desk in the staff room, holding a biscuit just out of reach of Jos, only to be flipped off by Jos, who swiped the biscuit anyway, long since used to Chris’ tricks. 

“I don’t want to think I’m being nice to his kid because I want to fuck him, Chris.”

“He wouldn't,” Chris said, and he drew up a chair next to Jos and slumped down on it, leaning back on the back two legs, and Jos had to bite down the automatic _all four legs on the floor_ whenever he saw someone swinging on their chair, “You’re definitely the best thing to happen to Alex’s education. _And_ -” Chris held up a finger to stop Jos interjecting, “you want more than a fuck, Jos, and you know it. You fancy the pants off him, you’re so far gone.”

“I don’t even know if he likes guys, Chris.” 

“Who doesn’t like guys?” Asks Eoin, coming over to join them with Jason, 

“Yeah, don’t leave us out of such an important conversation, lads. Who does Jos fancy?” 

“Joe Root, Alex Root’s dad, the one we’re going on a picnic tomorrow with.”

“Why don’t you check his Facebook?” asked Jason, “See if you can tell from there?” 

Jos put his head in his hands. 

“...He doesn’t have one.”

* * *

**june.**

After the picnic Jos somehow becomes integrated in Joe’s friendship group. They’d had a lovely time, looking more like a gaggle of overgrown teenagers than grown men with full time jobs and a child, but they’d played some cricket, and Joe hadn’t been exaggerating or looking through rose tinted glasses when he’d said his son was good for his age, before they’d sat down to eat lunch with quite the spread of tupperwares prepared by Ali and Joe, all of which had been delicious, and Jos and Chris (and Eoin and Jason to a lesser extent) had found themselves being invited to more and more gatherings with Alex, Joe and his friends. 

It was pick up time at school at the end of the week and Jos saw Ali coming down the path to collect Alex, knowing he had to sign out with Jos since he wasn’t Alex’s dad. Jos handed him the clipboard for him to sign, everyone familiar with protocol by this point, as Alex cleared up the toys he had been playing with and went to get his bag. 

As they waited for Alex to return, Ali turned to Jos, 

“You free this Sunday, Jos?” he asked, smiling warmly, “We tend to get together for Sunday Roast at mine. Ben, Mark, Jonny, Joe and Alex come round every Sunday, and Jonny’s asked whether he can bring Chris, so I was wondering whether you might like to join us.” 

Jos couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a proper Sunday Roast, and if Chris was going he couldn’t really pull the teacher card could he, not to mention the fact that maybe he’d see Joe, who hadn’t been in to school recently, he hoped absentmindedly that he was well and not working too hard.

Remembering that Ali was still waiting for a response, Jos turned to him, smiling, 

“That would be lovely, thank you. I’m touched, Ali. What time should I get there, what’s the dress code, is there an occasion?” The final questions came out in a hurry, and Jos snapped his mouth shut, colour flooding the tips of his ears and the back of his next and he hastily apologised. 

Ali laughed, an easy laugh as he took Alex’s coat from him, 

“Tell you what, why don’t you give me your number and I can text you the details, would that work? That way I can answer any questions you might have and I can send directions and all that, Al’s got Little Cricket tonight so we’re going to try and race through some maths before hand, but if you just pop your number in my phone we can sort it all out.” 

•••••

“You did _what._ ” 

“I invited Jos over for Sunday roast this week,” Ali repeated calmly, catching Jimmy’s eye from where Jimmy was stood holding Alex behind Joe and trying to stop the corners of his lips betraying any amusement he was pretending not to feel. “Everyone else will be there, Chris will be here for the first time too, I didn’t think inviting Jos would be a problem. It would be nice for him to have some homemade food.” 

“This is about _way more_ than some _homemade food_ , Ali.” 

Jimmy snorted in the background, placing Alex on the floor to wander over to Joe and Joe placed his hand on the crown of his son’s head, if only so that he wouldn’t strangle his son’s godfather.

“They’ll be here in an hour,” Ali said, “Why don’t you help me with the chicken, Joe, Jim can watch Alex for a bit.” Joe all but fled to the kitchen, leaving Jimmy with his son. Ali may have conspired against him, but he knew that Joe needed a distraction if they were going to avoid a break down, and Ali followed Joe into the kitchen to get the roast going. 

The other lads arrived one after the other, the couples arriving together before there was a final knock at the door. 

Alex jumped to his feet, racing to the door as Jimmy followed at a more leisurely pace, letting Alex swing the door open to reveal Jos, looking sheepish in a dress shirt and jeans and holding a bottle of wine.

He was welcomed in, dragged through the hallway to the living room by Alex, who was telling him that ‘ _Sundays are the best, Mr B, you’ll love Sundays. Ali’s made chicken and Da helped_.’ 

“Did he, Alex, let’s hope your dad’s a good cook then, shall we?” he asked, smiling at the collected group of people in the living room and sinking onto the sofa next to Chris. There was a spluttering noise from the doorway, and Jos looked up to see Joe stood there, leaning on the frame, a Cath Kidston apron on and with what could be gravy on his nose, 

“I’ll have you know I’m an _excellent_ cook,” He said, scooping Alex into his arms who had run over with his arms outstretched, but maintaining eye contact with Jos, a soft smile on playing across his features. 

Ali emerged from the kitchen to announce that dinner was ready to be served if they could make their way through to the dining room, and Jos remembered that he was still clutching his wine from earlier, since he hadn’t had a chance to hand it over to Jimmy when he’d come in, having been dragged away by Alex. 

The lads had got up from their seats to pile into the dining room, and Joe watched as Jos caught Jimmy’s arm and handed him the bottle of wine. Joe watched as Jimmy sucked in a breath, obviously impressed by whatever grape or vintage or whatever it was that determined the quality of a wine. Joe watched as they shared a word, before he returned to the kitchen to help Ali carry through the food and take off his apron, though not before he heard Jimmy say to Jos, ‘This is a lovely wine, Jos, you should have saved it for yourself’ and Jos reply, “I’d rather share it with friends, thank you”, ignoring the look that Ali was giving him and trying to stop his ears from heating up. 

•••••

Dinner at the Anderson-Cook’s was the closest to a family dinner that Jos had experienced since he’d moved away from Somerset. His nerves had been eased when he’d learned that it was Chris’ first time at Sunday Dinner, too, so they were in it together, but even then he needn’t have worried. 

Joe was as radiant as always, but now Jos began to see aspects of Joe in all their friends; Jos could see a lot of Joe’s sincerity in Ali, and Ben’s humour, Jimmy’s quiet protectiveness, and Jos was charmed by them all, building on the foundations that had been laid at the picnic. 

By the time dinner was over, Jimmy ordered that everyone left their dishes on the side, afterall, they ‘had a dishwasher for a reason and it wasn’t so their guests could tire themselves out washing dishes’, and Ali suggested a game before everyone went home. Despite Jos’ reserves about embarrassing himself, Alex had heard the word game and started bouncing off walls with excitement. 

And that was how Jos learned that not only was Joe a talented cameraman (the Easter production video had been the best quality the school had put out for years, most likely _ever_ ), and a very caring dad who genuinely listened to their children’s needs, he was also an incredible artist. 

Ben was not, and they spent at least seven minutes, most likely closer to ten, before Alex shouted out _sloth_ with such enthusiasm that Jos thought that even if Ben _hadn’t_ been trying to draw a sloth, he would say he was just for the smile it had put on Alex’s face. 

Alex clapped his hands together, racing over to the whiteboard, a little too enthusiastically, catching his foot on the edge of the carpet as he ran over and falling to the floor with a small thud. 

There was a brief silence, broken only by Ali’s _oh dear_ , which was proved to be appropriate when a second later Alex’s bottom lip started trembling and he started crying. Joe immediately raced over to his son, picking him up and checking him over for injuries, murmuring soothing words into his hair as he pressed kisses to his forehead and rocked him backwards and forwards, telling him that Mark was going to get him the magic bunny, and repeating it a little louder when Mark didn’t move. 

Alex’s tears only lasted a few moments; Jos had always admired Alex for the speed at which he collected himself after injuries, even when he’d fallen off the top of the slide and grazed his side nastily, and when Mark returned with an ice pack that was wrapped up in a rabbit container for Alex he was already wiping his eyes with his sleeves. 

Joe checked his watch, before turning to Ali, 

“No surprise really, look at the time, it’s well past Al’s bed time.” He stood up, his son still held tightly to his chest, “I think it’s best Al and I went home, thank you for a lovely night as always Ali, Jimmy.” 

He made his way around his friends, giving them all sidehugs, mindful of Alex still in his arms, before he reached Jos. 

“It was lovely of you to join us, too, Jos, I hope you had a good night, see you tomorrow,” he said, surprising Jos with a sideways hug, like he’d given the other lads. 

They all saw Joe and Alex to the door, and at the door Joe turned his head down to speak to his son softly, 

“What do we say, Al?” 

“Thank you Uncle Ali, thank you Uncle Jim,” the six year old mumbled, eyes already drooping.

“Our pleasure,” Ali replied, “Nighty nighty, Al.” 

There was a chorus of ‘yeah nighty nighty, Al,’ from the other lads, much to Jos’ confusion, which only amplified when Al lifted his head up to turn to them one last time,

“Pyjama pyjama,” he said, a content smile on his face as he rested his head back on his dad’s shoulder to be carried to the car. 

* * *

**july.**

The end of a school term was always hectic, but for Chris and Jos there was the added emotional weight of the end of the school year. For them the end of year concert always meant saying goodbye to their lot and their year moving on from Pre-Prep to Lower School, in a different building on campus. There was a book giving to the Year Twos that had a message from their teacher on the inside cover, and they performed songs, with a few of the kids giving solo performances too. 

Jos was sorting out seating for the parents when he got to Alex’s and huffed out a laugh at how many tickets had been ordered under his name. Ali, Jimmy, Mark, Ben and Jonny had all reserved seats, as well as ‘Eirlys Davies’. Joe had been offered a job photographing the event for a pretty sum by the school, which he had accepted gratefully, since he’d been offered a wedding that day that would have paid just as handsomely that he would have fretted about turning down, and Jos was _not_ looking forward to watching Joe in his element again behind the lens. Not at all. Maybe he could convince himself simply by repeating it to himself often enough.

•••••

Jos watched from his position by the stage as Jason pointed the gaggle of grown men to their seats, noticing that there was no sign of a woman with them. They chatted for a while, until they spotted Jos and waved at him, making their way over through the crowd of parents. They chattered excitedly, asking about the programme, trying to tease out of him what book Alex might have been given, whether he had a solo ( _he won’t tell any of us if he has, but he’s been practicing harder than usual, so that must mean something, right_ ), and other details from the day. 

They were halfway through asking whether or not Alex would be playing a piece from a Disney film when there was a shout of ‘Joseph’ from a woman who was snaking her way artfully through the crowd in what must be at least seven inch stilettos, Jos thought as his eyebrows rose into his hairline. Unlike Alex and Joe she had brunette hair, piled up on her hair in some complex bun situation with floral pins haphazardly stuck in to keep it from falling down, but when she smiled Jos knew immediately that she must be Alex’s mother. 

She radiated sunshine just as much as Joe did, lighting up the room as she passed by, and Joe turned to engulf her in a hug as she approached the group. Jos ignored the twinge of jealousy in the pit of his stomach, watching on as she slung an arm around Joe’s shoulders, and his hand settled on her hip. 

“How are the skies?” he asked her, as she reached out to squeeze Ali’s hand warmly, beaming at him and winking at Ben. 

“A dream, as ever,” she returned, “But nothing compared to watching little Al graduate from Year Two.” 

She turned to him, blue eyes twinkling as she looked him up and down quickly, before extending a hand, 

“Lovely to meet you, Jos, I’ve heard so much about you from my family, I feel almost as though I know you already, we must catch up, will you be joining us at the pub afterwards?” 

She spoke quickly, not pausing for breath and with the lilt of her accent making it almost musical, Jos guessed that she must be where Alex got his musical talent; he’d heard Joe’s guitar playing at the picnic and there was no way it came from Joe, he’d decided. 

“If I’m welcome,” he replied, and she scoffed. 

“Of course you are, my love, I can’t wait.”

The parents took their seats, and the group bid Jos goodbye, and good luck, before they scurried to their own seats, Eirlys giggling at something that Mark said, linking hands with him and cheerily turning to the parents next to their group to ask about their child when they’d found their seats. As they sat down she leaned over to Joe, fighting hard to keep the laughter out of her voice. 

“Nice,” she whispered to him, ignoring the look she got from the parents in front of them. 

“Nice what?” he asked back, his eyes flicking to Jos and then meeting hers.

She snorted, eyes narrowing as she looked pointedly between him and Jos, a delicate eyebrow raised, 

“Nice what,” she repeated, unimpressed before turning her attention back to the stage where the assembly had begun.

They whooped and hollered appropriately when Alex went up to receive his book, and if Ali and Ben shed a tear as Alex sat at the piano playing _Candle on the Water_ from Pete’s Dragon then no one mentioned anything, but Eirlys did hand them both tissues, smirking. 

Jos finished saying goodbye to the last of his pupils for the year, sorting out his classroom, knowing he’d be coming in the next day to sort it out properly anyway and not wanting to keep everyone waiting out front to go to the pub. 

“I’ve been sent to check on you,” a woman’s voice said from his doorway, and he looked up to see Eirlys leaning on the doorway, “Or rather, I volunteered, thought I should see the classroom that my son’s been taught in this past year, as thought that might make up for being a shitty parent.” 

Jos opened his mouth to oppose her final statement; from what he’d heard from Alex and Joe she was far from a shitty parent, but was stopped in his objections when she ploughed on, 

“My family adore you, Mr Buttler,” and Jos was taken aback at the sincerity in her voice, as he tried to stammer out to please call him Jos, “I cannot thank you enough for everything you’ve done for them.” 

Despite her height, still coming up two or three inches shorter than him in heels, she’s an intimidating figure, Jos thought to himself as she stood in front of him, standing tall and seeming to size him up. 

“I’m glad that Alex enjoyed this year in my class, he would have been just as happy with Chris, I’m sure, he was a pleasure to teach.”

He’s levelled with a stare that made Jos think that should she get bored of being a pilot, Eirlys would make an excellent teacher. She waited for him to say something else, and when he didn’t, she sighed, 

“Not just Al, _Mr Buttler_ , you’ve been good for Joe, too.” He flushed and her eyebrow rose again, “I’ve not seen Joe like this since, goodness. Must have been Jess, or maybe it was Theo, I can’t remember, not for a long time anyway. He’s fucking _smitten_ ” She shot him a wink as she strode over to a display about the Titanic that the kids had done not too long ago,

“Are you ready to go to the pub now, Mr Buttler?” She asked, swivelling on her heel to face him and smiling pleasantly.

Jos nodded numbly, ‘ _or maybe it was Theo_ ’ on loop in his mind with the accompanying wink. ‘ _Or maybe it was Theo’_ meant that he had a shot with Joe. That Joe liked guys. 

He joined Eirlys striding out to the playground to meet the others. He was surprised to see that the others had already left to grab a table, and waiting for them out front was only Joe and Alex. As they approached them she muttered a final, 

“He loves the Lion and Lamb about fifteen minutes away from here, by the way,” under her breath to Jos before hoisting Alex up in her arms with a ‘you were wonderful, cariad, we’re so proud of you’, without losing her balance and spinning away, making her way down the path to the car park. 

•••••

The pub was crowded, full of other families that had had similar ideas to grab a bite before going home after the end of term, but Jimmy had somehow managed to find a table large enough for them all. The other lads had already got their drinks, and were waiting to order, so Eirlys suggested they ordered for everyone when they went to the bar to get their drinks. 

There was a long queue to order, and Eirlys provided a stream of running commentary on what drink choices meant about other customers, and passing remarks on clothing before Alex started to tire of waiting in the queue. Eirlys didn’t seem put out by his fidgeting, instead she turned to the two men with her, smiling and informing them that she was going to with Alex to find some colouring pencils or something for him to do, if that was OK, and would they be good to order for her as well. Joe confirmed with her what she wanted, and she grabbed Alex’s hand before weaving her way between other pub goers ‘in search of colouring pencils’, that Joe knew damned well she carried in her bag at all times, a suspicion confirmed by the wink she threw over her shoulder at him as she made her way back to the table they’d been sat at before. 

It left him and Jos together, making easy conversation about what a triumph the day had been, and how well Alex had played, occasionally smiling or waving at other parents that they recognised from school, until it was their turn at the bar. About five, or even ten, minutes of just chatting with Jos, and noticing how beautiful his eyes were, or how gentle he was and how much he genuinely cared about the kids.

The afternoon merged into early evening as they ate their meals, Jos learning more about Joe and his friends as they swapped tales; Jos was subjected to much talk from all their friends, who were enjoying the opportunity to embarrass Joe, most of all Eirlys, who kept shooting Joe looks that Jos can’t decipher, sipping on her drink. Alex was completely at ease with them all, clambering into their laps, demanding help from them all for his colouring and laughing at their jokes, even if he didn’t understand them. 

After their meal they split up somewhat; Ali, Jimmy, Chris and Jonny decided to head home, but Ben, Mark, Jos, Joe and Eirlys agreed to head back to Joe’s for a few drinks and chats with Alex. Ben and Mark left after an hour, congratulating Alex once more for ‘graduating’, and ruffling his hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead before strolling out to the street, arms linked. 

It left Joe, Jos, Eirlys and Alex in Joe’s living room. Eirlys got up, collecting the empty mugs from the coffee table and empty plates that had had cake on, hoisting herself up from the sofa that she had spread herself out on with Alex and announcing that she would get a start on the washing up. 

Jos and Joe were halfway to their feet, reaching for their own mugs voicing their intentions to do the same but were shot down by Eiryls. 

“I am not so bad at dishes that I can’t manage five mugs and plates, cariad,” she said, “I can take care of it, especially if Alex helps me, would you do that for me, machgen?” 

Alex leapt to his feet, taking the mugs from Jos and Joe and leading his mother to the kitchen. Eirlys maintained eye contact with Joe as she retreated back into the kitchen, as though she was trying to tell him something without making any noise, and Jos watched as Joe rolled his eyes at her, causing her to laugh as she waltzed into the kitchen.

He turned back to Jos when the kitchen door shut behind her, 

“Look, I should explain,” he said with a deep sigh. “Eiryls thinks we, I mean-” He ran his hand through his hair. He had a small crease in his brow in between his eyebrows and he was ringing his hands together, but Jos couldn’t believe how beautiful he looked. 

“I’d like to take you out,” he blurted out, interrupting Joe’s nervous stumbling, “For dinner. I’d like to take you out and kiss you and buy you flowers and be a part of this family that you have going. Please may I take you out for dinner?” 

Joe drew his attention away from his hands to look at Jos, flushing crimson and taking a deep breath in, a nervous smile ghosting across his face. 

“OK,” he said, and Jos breathed out a sigh of relief as Joe paused, “But you have to ask for permission first.”

“From _whom_?” Jos asked, “Your friends? I haven’t met your parents yet, so it can’t be them, surely? Eirlys?” 

“Oh no, not Lizzie,” Joe grinned. 

There was a brief pause, and then something must have clicked because Jos’ eyes went wide and he shook his head, 

“No, hold on, you don’t mean-” 

Joe started giggling, burying his head into Jos’ shoulder in a poorly veiled attempt to hide his amusement as Jos gave some half hearted protests. 

“I’ve always promised to put him first, over everything. Everything I do is for him. If he doesn’t want to share then…” Joe trailed off, shrugging and looking apologetically at Jos. 

“Alright,” Jos said, pressing a kiss to Joe’s forehead that was still resting on his shoulder, “For you.” 

•••••

Alex bounded back into the room, followed by a calmer Eirlys, who had a knowing smirk on her face and Joe would place money on her listening through the door and texting updates to the group chat that he _definitely doesn’t know exists_ between her, Ben and Ali. 

“I’m going to nip to the loo, and then I should head home,” she said, wiping her hands down on the jumper that she’d stolen from Joe.

“You don’t want to just stay here?” asked Joe, and Eirlys crossed her arms as she turned to him. 

“No,” she said, voice sweet despite the glare she had levelled Joe with, “I spend so much time away from home, sleeping in hotel beds, the last thing I want is to spend the night in another strange bed.” 

She padded down the hallway, her bare feet making no noise on the wooden floorboards. 

“Da?” Alex asked, tugging at Joe’s shirt and looking at him with wide eyes, “Can I stay with Mam tonight?” 

Although his son looked the picture of innocence, his blond curls and wide eyes making him look practically angelic, Joe was impressed at how well Eirlys had trained him; it was probably why washing five mugs and five plates had taken so long, Eirlys eavesdropping and teaching Alex how to be devious. 

“Of course, Al, if that’s what you want,” he said instead, choosing to ignore the conniving aspects of his family and take this and Eirlys’ toilet trip on face value. “Jos has a question for you, too,” he added, and in reflection, maybe they were all as bad as each other, as Jos started and tugged at his collar. 

“Alex,” he started, “See, I really like your dad, and I’d like to date him, take him for dinner, that kind of thing, you know?” 

Alex looked up at Jos, scrutinising him as much as a six year old could.

“Like a boyfriend?” he finally asked, and Jos nodded, 

“Like a boyfriend,” he confirmed, adding, “But it would mean I’d have to spend more time with him and you, and come round more, and he’d spend more time away from you maybe, if he’d be up for it, would that be OK?”

There was a pause, as Alex looked at Jos and Jos maintained eye contact. Joe wondered where Eirlys had got to, and started weighing up the odds of her hiding behind the door so as not to ‘ruin the moment’. 

Finally, Alex nodded, “OK, I’d liked that.” 

Jos let out a breath. “Thanks Alex.” 

He smiled, “You’re welcome. Can I call you Jos now?” 

Jos laughed, “Yes, you can.” 

Joe’s suspicions were confirmed when Eirlys chose that moment to stomp down the hallway uncharacteristically loudly and clatter through the door. 

“Are we good to go, Al?” she asked, smiling at him as though unaware of what she was doing. 

Joe held his arms out and she folded herself into them. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and she returned it with a kiss pressed to his cheek. Before they pulled away she stood up on her tiptoes, whispering into his ear as he gave her one last squeeze, 

“If you let him go home, I’m taking your son away from you forever, we’ll fly the skies together and you’ll never see him again,” she threatened jokingly into his ear, and his eyes widened at her warning despite her innocent face when she pulled away that looked far too similar to Alex’s expression earlier for Joe to even entertain the thought that he hadn’t been set up. 

“It was lovely meeting you, Jos” Eirlys said to Jos as she turned to engulf him in a hug too, before she turned to her son to make sure he had everything. They made their way through to the hall, Joe and Jos seeing Alex and Eirlys to the door. Jos watched as Joe ran up to get a night bag for Alex, and Eirlys helped him into his coat. He felt oddly settled as he waved them goodbye, shoulder to shoulder with Joe, as Eirlys and Joe made promises of breakfasts and trips to the zoo.

When the door shut behind them, Alex bundled up in Eirlys’ arms and waving tiredly, Joe turned to Jos, smiling nervously. He chewed his lip, trying to work out how the best way to ask Jos whether he’d like to stay a little longer without seeming like some sort of teenager who had only seen Rom Coms to advise him on propositioning a man. 

Instead he turned to Jos with a nervous smile, and said,

“And then there were two.” Jos returned the smile, watching as Joe exhaled, “Would you like to come back in?” 

“I would love to, thank you.”

* * *

**july. a year later.**

Rosie knocks on his door and Jos looks up in surprise when she walks in with what looks like a school project. She approaches his desk, trying to hide a smile as she hands him the family tree she was carrying. 

Jos recognises Alex’s writing in the top corner, and it’s a mess. There are names everywhere, in various colours, with various lines connecting them all to Alex in the centre. 

Chris is on there now, as are Jason and Eoin. 

But Jos is drawn to his own name, that is attached to Alex’s with a solid black line that is reserved for family, and connected to his father’s with the same black line. He traces it slowly as Rosie smiles in the background, subtly taking a photo of Jos welling up at the sight of Alex’s family tree to send to Joe.

And when Joe asks him, later that week on a Saturday when Alex is staying at Eirlys’, to move in with him, he thinks back to the family tree, and doesn’t have any doubts. 

He says yes.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> this fic sits a bit funnily with me idk why, maybe i've spent too long looking at it, it just feels very long with nothing going on but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless !!  
> as always let me know what you liked or what i could do to improve i really hope you enjoyed it !!!  
> i hope everyone's keeping well and looking after themselves,  
> all the love as ever,  
> peggy  
> Xx


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